


You Just Got Outsmarted By A Drug Addict

by Yourwritingco



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Badass, Caring Lestrade, Drugs, Everyone is an idiot save for Sherlock, Gen, Lestrade-centric, Murder, Oh and Lestrade. He's smart too, Protective Mycroft, Sherlock Holmes's Brain is a Hard Drive, Sherlock is a BAMF, Sherlock-centric, Teen Angst, Teen Sherlock, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 14:41:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8628388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yourwritingco/pseuds/Yourwritingco
Summary: Lestrade was only meant to be doing a simple interview, then the text's started coming in.
Determined to find out who this is, he sends out all of his best men.
Of course, when he finally meets the guy, he's more than a little surprised.





	

A young man was walking down an alley, listening to music. He kept his eyes down, looking at his feet as he bobbed his head in time to the song he was hearing. It was loud enough to block out the noise of someone coming from behind. He wasn't aware of the danger he was in, until, well, until the perpetrator was right behind him.

 

* * *

 

 

 

"Just last week, a body of a young man, named Joseph Liliacs was found dumped in a ditch. Though all of London grieves for him, we already have our murderer" Greg Lestrade said, as he sat on a podium next to Anderson and Donovan, who, like him, had their arms crossed, and their faces were respectful. 

 

The reporters in the room began shouting questions at once, only to be interrupted by the different sounds of phones pinging. Everyone, the press, Anderson, Donovan and Lestrade all looked at their phones, which all read the same sentence.

 

**Not even close. Got the wrong guy :D**

 

Lestrade looked up and frowned. "Is this some kind of joke?" He demanded, but, no one answered him. Instead, one of the reporters raised her hand. "What does that mean? Got the wrong guy?" She asked, pen hovering over a notepad, while around her, camera's flashed. Donovan stood up. "If you could all come up here and put your phones in this box" she put down a small cardboard box. "It would be most appreciated."

 

Grumbling, the press did so, many making sure to write their names so no one would get any ideas. "Anyways" Lestrade said, glancing around to make sure that yes, everyone's phone was indeed in the box. "To answer your question, miss, it's probably someone trying to stir up trouble. We have already examined the body and crime scene thoroughly, and all evidence points to him."

 

As if in response, the phones buzz again, and the reporters all rush up. After a few minutes of fumbling, they all manage to see what it says.

 

**Well then, you guys are even stupider than I thought. Because, THAT IS NOT THE MURDERER**

 

"Everyone gave up their phone, correct?" Lestrade murmurs to Anderson, the smartest member of the force, who nods confidently. "And no one's outside" Donovan adds, looking at the glass walls.

 

"So who's texting?"

 

* * *

 

It was two hours later when Lestrade got one last text.

 

**The man was hit on the head, hard enough to knock him out, then strangled with his own shoelaces. The man you convicted had some rope in his bag. That's all. The murderers name is Ava Longdrove. She left a bar at 7:15 and took a left on Sherman, where there were no camera's. However, judging by the knocked over trash cans, and bent wire fence, she used that to get in to the alley the victim was in, and strangled him there.**

**SH**

 

Lestrade sat back for a moment, eyes round, before pulling up the call button. "Yeah? Donovan? I think we need to go over Joseph Liliac's murder. Also" he thumbed back to texts. "Find out if there's anyone we know who's initials are S and H

* * *

 

 

The man 'in light of new evidence' was found innocent. Of course, all the newspapers raved about was the mysterious 'vigilante' who proved the police wrong. Donovan, Anderson and Lestrade had spent weeks going over those initials, but four were dead, ten out of town and one was a drug addict.  _Maybe a_ _pseudonymous,_ Lestrade mused, interested at this new idea, when his phone pinged.

 

**Nope**

 

He frowned, annoyed. Who was this mysterious 'S.H' and how did he know what he was thinking?

 

* * *

 

 

It had been two months.They had tried to hunt down his number, only to find it untraceable. They had gone through a small folder that Anderson had specifically compiled, which was actually quite small, but came up with nothing.

 

And the thing, that to this day, frustrated Lestrade to no end? 

 

At the end of the day, they hadn't found him.  **He** found  **them.**

 

* * *

 

 

It was a damp day, not exactly raining, but feeling like it might be soon, and Lestrade had just found out about a drug gang just north from Funbugs* Kindergarten, from the mysterious 'S.H'. He and his team were moving in. Anderson, being the smartest, trailing behind, while Donovan and Lestrade headed into the house, guns raised, only to lower them when they saw the scene.

 

The limp bodies of the gang were strewn across the floor, injured and bleeding. Quite a few of them had stab wounds. No one was in sight, at least until a teenager stepped into sight.

 

He was an addict, that much was clear. And yet, if you didn't know the signs, you would probably say he was an verage, healthy boy. His black hair was long for a boy's, but it was clean and shin, and his green-grey eyes shone. Yet he had thousands of pinpricks lining his arm, a clear sign of what he had been taken. He should of have been scared. If he was his age, Lestrade would of have been terrified.

 

Instead he just frowned at them. "You took longer than expected" he told them, and Lestrade blinked. "What? What's your name boy?" He demanded, keeping his tone neutral.  The boy didn't answer, instead he pulled out his phone and began tapping away at it. "My name is Sherlock Holmes" the three adults exchanged a look. The drug addict. "But you know me as-" He held up his phone, and with a cocky smile, watched as their faces gave away to astonishment as they read the clear, huge writing.  **S.H**

* * *

 

Sherlock Holmes had to be taken into custody of course, he stabbed a group of men, and was taking drugs. He should of have been a nervous wreck. Yet he just sat there, smiling as Lestrade entered the slightly chilly room. "Sherlock .  . . Holmes?" He asked, making a point of looking at a clipboard. "That clipboard's blank" Sherlock said, not even glancing up.

 

Lestrade sighed as he sat in the metal chair across from him, as if he would shatter into a million pieces if he sat down too fast. "You do know what your here fr, right?" Sherlock just gives him a pitiful look. "Withholding information from the police-" Sherlock scoffed. "Withholding? I thought you guys were smart enough to see it. Not my fault everyone here is an idiot."

 

Lestrade tried to continue. "Stabbed four men." The teenager glanced at the gun strapped to Lestrade's waist. "Oh? So you're telling me that you came in with a fully loaded caliber pistol, for what? Show?" He snorted, and rolled his eyes. Lestrade felt his temper flare. "We only use it if it's necessary-" Once again, he was cut off. "And you think I stabbed them for fun?"

 

Lestrade gritted his teeth and pushed on. "And you were found with drugs on your personal." This time there was silence. "What, not going to deny this one?" Sherlock shrugged, eyes down. Lestrade sighed, and leaned forwards, trying to look as sympathetic as possible, without showing too much pity for him. "Look, I can see your a bit of an intelligent fellow-"  


"A bit?" Sherlock sits straight up, and narrows his eyes on the man. "I can assure you, I am more than a  **bit** intelligent" he said, crossing his arms. "Is that so?" Lestrade asked amused.

 

Sherlock, realizing that he was just toying with him, smiled tightly. "Yeah. For instance, the second you walked into this room, I knew that you have a sister named Getrude, you like ice'd tea. I also know your right handed. This morning you had toast, with butter on it, and your car broke down, so you had to get the train. Because of that, you were late to work." He sat back, and smirked. "So? How much did I get right?"

 

Lestrade closed his mouth. "All of it. How-" Sherlock smiled. "You have crumbs on your sleeve, as well as a little bit of butter, which means you had to of have toast with butter on it. Your right thumb has a smudge of oil on it, which means your right handed, and used that to open your car. However, your the kind of guy to have almost everything laid out in perfect order, so it wasn't just a routine check up, no, it broke down. I know you took the train, because of the train station pamphlet sticking out o your back pocket, and I know your sister's Gertrude because of that  **Amazing** knitted sweater." He finished with his rapid fire list and took a deep breath, smirking at Lestrade's astonished expression. "Yeah. Not just a little bit intelligent am I?"

 

"So, then why do you do drugs?" Lestrade asked, shaking himself. Sherlock shrugged. "Bored." Lestrade raised an eyebrow. "Bored?" 

 

"Bored" he repeated, rolling his eyes. "Well then. Maybe you can explain to your parents that you took drugs because of boredom. I'm sure they can cure that right away" Lestrade smirked, only to look confused when the boy started laughing. "Yeah . . . . no" he said, a smile tugging at his lips. "What? You think that your parent's won't notice your gone?" Lestrade asked.

 

"Oh they will, but someone else has already noticed first." Lestrade squinted at him. "And who is tha-" The whir of blades cut him off. "Come on!" Sherlock said, joyfully standing up and practically skipping out of the interrogation room. "You don't want to miss this!"

 

**"Attention Assholes! You have something that belongs to me!"** Lestrade and Sherlock gathered at a window. "Is that a helicopter?" Lestrade asked, trying to take everything in. "Noooooo" Sherlock smiled and started for the door. "That's my brother. He's part of the C.I.A, F.B.I and God only knows what else." He started walking towards the door. "Oh, and don't try to find him. His records were deleted years ago."

Sherlock ran outside and jumped onto the helicopter. As it lifted him up into the air, he took his brothers megaphone and screamed " **DON'T WORRY! I PREDICT WE'LL BE SEEING A LOT OF EACH OTHER!** " Mycroft turned to look at his younger brother, and lifted an eyebrow. "Have fun?" Sherlock chuckled. "A blast."

**Author's Note:**

> * I apologise if you know a kindergarten called that.
> 
> In every fanfic I look up about this, everyone always talks about how Lestrade met Sherlock as a dug addict first.
> 
> So, new angle.
> 
> Plus, I like what he did with the phones in episode 1.
> 
> If any of you enjoyed, please feel free to make your own Sherlock meets Lestrade/ someone else for first time.


End file.
